


Blood and Flowers

by kpkl10



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Vomiting, or a take on it at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kpkl10/pseuds/kpkl10
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier pass through a town suffering from a peculiar sickness, and it doesn't take long for Jaskier to come down with it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 781





	Blood and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, Witcher fandom. I'm very new here, but I really wanted to write this because I've been enjoying the first book as well as the show. It involves a take on the Hanahaki disease, so please be aware that there is vomiting involved as well as some blood.

The streets of the town were littered with flowers, as if someone had carried them in with a basket and thrown them out while passing through. If Jaskier were traveling alone, he’d have thought that the town was recovering from a festival, especially with only a few people wandering around. However, he wasn’t traveling alone.

Geralt was sniffing the air, as if trying to inhale the scents of all the flowers that had been trampled by multiple sets of feet. He made a noise in the back of his throat, his hand tightening on Roach’s reins. “I don’t like this.” 

Jaskier glanced at him, adjusting the strap on his lute case. “I’m starting to think that you attract weird stuff.” 

Geralt met his glance. “I don’t do it on purpose,” he muttered. 

Jaskier held down a smile. “So what is it? What’s wrong here?” 

“It’s too quiet. And these flowers--” Geralt toed at one nearby. “Some of these don’t grow in this area.” 

Jaskier grew a little more serious. “It looks like there’s an inn down the street. Let’s stop there and ask about it.” 

Geralt nodded once, a piece of white hair falling in his face. He swept it away before setting out towards the inn. Jaskier followed him. As they passed by a small house, the sound of retching started up. Jaskier stared at the gray stone facing, wondering if a sickness had taken hold of the town. If so, it still didn’t explain the flowers. 

They stopped before the inn, and Jaskier went inside as Geralt tied Roach to a post. The inn’s main room was small, with an old wooden floor and sparse furnishings. On one wall, a fire crackled in a fireplace. It was the only noise in the room. 

A pudgy, red-faced man appeared from a doorway behind the counter next to the entrance. He looked surprised to see Jaskier, but then he replaced the surprise with a smile. 

“Hello, traveler,” the inn-keeper said. “Do you need a room for the night?” 

“We’d like information first,” Geralt said as he entered the inn behind Jaskier. 

The man looked at Geralt, taking in the medallion hanging off his neck. The inn-keeper almost looked like he was going to spit in Geralt’s direction, then thought better of it. “We don’t want your kind here, witcher.” 

“What’s with the flowers?” Geralt asked, ignoring the man’s words. 

The man just stared at Geralt, his face even more red than before. 

“Is there a sickness going around?” Jaskier jumped in, trying his best to appear friendly. 

The inn-keeper turned his gaze to Jaskier, seeming to weigh him up, before deciding that Jaskier wasn’t as much of a threat as Geralt. “Yes. People throwing up flowers. Not everyone, though. It’s mainly the young. They start by puking up a flower or two, then about a week later they’re throwing up their insides, too. Gets real messy. We’ve already had a couple deaths.” 

Jaskier breathed in slowly. He’d never heard of anything like this. He turned to Geralt, who subtly shrugged. He didn’t know anything, either. 

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but the man interrupted him. “If you’re so curious about it, go ask the healer your questions. I don’t know much more than what I’ve told you.” 

“Thank you, my good man,” Jaskier said as Geralt turned and walked out the door. He followed out after him. Geralt was already a good ways down the street, damn his long legs. 

Jaskier set off into a mild jog to catch up to him. “A poem for your thoughts?” 

“No poem, just thoughts.” Geralt paused, scanning the buildings and houses around him as they walked. “This reeks of magic. If that’s the case, there probably isn’t anything I can do about it.” 

Jaskier didn’t miss the stiffness in Geralt’s voice. “You don’t have to fix everyone’s problems, you know.” 

Geralt glanced sharply at him. “That’s not the point.” 

Jaskier kept silent, watching the brooding look on Geralt’s face. Geralt suddenly stopped in front of a low building, it’s wooden facing having been long bleached by the sun. He entered without knocking, and Jaskier hurried in after him. Inside, it was dimly lit, making it hard to make out the shape of a couple tables and benches, topped with vials and flasks and tools. It smelled both metallic and musty. 

On the opposite side of the room from the door, an elderly woman with wild hair was sitting on one of the benches. A young man was sprawled on the table next to her, pale as a ghost. The woman looked up at them, her hand stilling where she had been wiping the man’s forehead with a damp cloth. 

“What is it now?” she demanded, and Jaskier could see that the lady was exhausted. She’d probably had her fill of work recently. 

Geralt approached her, his eyes briefly going to the man on the table. “I want to know what’s going on in this town. Have you been cursed?” 

The woman blew a breath out through her nose. She stood up and gestured to a different table. All three sat down at it. 

The woman clasped her hands on top of the table. “Witcher,” she said casually. It wasn’t a question. 

Geralt nodded. 

The woman barely spared a glance for Jaskier. “I’m Lilian, the town healer.” 

“Geralt,” he replied agreeably enough. 

Jaskier raised his hand in a greeting. “Jaskier.” 

Lilian ignored him, focusing on Geralt. “I thought Witcher’s hunt monsters, not lift curses.” 

“So it is magic making these people sick,” Geralt said, his eyebrows lowered. 

Lilian sighed. “Unfortunately. If it was a real illness spreading, at least I might have been able to do something. As it is, I just have to stand by and make people as comfortable as possible if they don’t have the guts to… well, spill their guts.” 

Geralt’s eyebrows raised back up, a question in his eyes. 

Lilian sat back a bit. “The sickness only affects people who are in love with someone but haven’t told them. If they _do_ work up the nerve to admit their feelings, the sickness goes away.” 

“But have that many people in this town been affected?” Jaskier asked, thinking about the fairly empty streets outside and the flowers strewn on the ground. 

A shrug from Lilian. “I guess the folks around here don’t have much time for saying feelings out loud.” 

Jaskier met Geralt’s eye. “So there’s nothing we can do.” 

“No,” Lilian agreed. “I’d advise you to keep going to the next town, just north of here. Hopefully they’re doing fine.” 

Geralt shook his head slowly. “If I knew who cast the curse—” 

“You’d do what? Kill them?” Lilian stood up from the table. “Just go, Witcher. You’re not needed here.” 

Geralt opened his mouth to say more, but Jaskier laid a hand on his arm. Geralt shut his mouth, and Lilian turned back to her patient. Jaskier heard Geralt let a slow breath out. Jaskier let his hand slip from his arm before standing up and heading to the door. After a moment, he heard Geralt following behind him. 

Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. A dark expression clouded Geralt’s face. It was easy to tell that Geralt didn’t want to let this go. Jaskier stopped. Geralt kept walking for a few more steps before stopping as well, turning to Jaskier with a questioning look. 

“The town doesn’t want your help, Geralt,” Jaskier said softly. He knew it sounded harsh, but the man needed to hear it. 

A muscle in Geralt’s jaw twitched. “I know,” he replied, his voice rough. His eyes were fixed on a point over Jaskier’s shoulder, the yellow of his irises disconcertingly bright in the noonday sun. 

“Then let’s get out of here. Keep moving north. We can probably make it to the next town a little after dark if we hurry.” 

Geralt was silent. After a moment, he nodded. Jaskier reached out and gave Geralt’s arm a reassuring squeeze before heading back towards the inn where Roach was tied up. 

*****

“... _It's Charlotte the harlot_ ,

_The girl we adore_ , 

_The pride of the prairie_ , 

_The cowpunchers' whore_. 

_She's dirty, she's vulgar, she spits in the street_ , 

_Why whenever you see her, she's always in heat_. 

_She’ll_ \--” 

“Jaskier.” 

Jaskier shut his mouth and stopped strumming on his lute. He looked over at Geralt, who was trying and barely failing to keep an amused smile off his face. “What, you don’t like that song? I know a great one that has to do with a chastity belt, if that’s more your speed.” 

Geralt snorted, his grin widening. Jaskier grinned, too, happy to have wiped the brooding look off the man’s face, which he’d been wearing for the past couple of hours while they had traveled. The town of flowers was far behind them now. They’d thankfully taken the main road since they-- mainly Jaskier-- didn’t want to camp out in the woods at night. In another couple of hours, they would be at another town, where hopefully an inn would take them in. 

Geralt slid off Roach, opting to walk next to Jaskier for the time being. Probably so that it would be easier to reach over and make him shut up if he sang too loud. Jaskier started strumming on his lute again, but kept to humming along with the tune. When he glanced over, Geralt seemed more relaxed. Maybe he’d already managed to put the what had happened in the town behind him. 

Jaskier snuck another glance at Geralt. He was covered in a thin layer of dust from the road, but he still looked dignified. Not for the first time, Jaskier wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through the man’s long white hair. They’d known each other for a while now, but Jaskier wasn’t about to cross that line, if ever. 

Geralt was looking at Jaskier. “What?” 

Jaskier realized he had unconsciously stopped playing his lute. He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just--” He cut himself off as he felt something punch against his thigh. 

Jaskier drew in a surprised breath as he stumbled into Geralt’s side. Geralt caught him around the waist, holding him up. The world went a little hazy when Jaskier saw the arrow sticking out of his leg, blood slowly seeping out around the wooden shaft. He let go of his lute to clutch at his leg, the instrument making a jarring, discordant sound as it hit the ground. 

“Well, hello there, my good men,” a voice called out. 

Jaskier felt Geralt’s grip on him tighten as a young woman stepped out from behind a copse of bent trees. She was tall and broadly built, carrying a crossbow in one hand. 

“If you could kindly toss me your purses,” she called out, still quite a few feet away, “then I’ll let you go without anymore injury.” 

Geralt growled, the sound loud in Jaskier’s ear. “I don’t think so.” 

The woman paused, cocking her head to one side. “Did you hear that, girls? This man doesn’t want to spare his coins for our cause.” 

There came some snickering, and then rustling as three more women stepped out from the trees, all armed with weapons. Geralt sat Jaskier down on the ground with an order to stay there. Jaskier wouldn’t have moved even if Geralt hadn’t said anything. His leg was on fire now and the blood was still spreading. 

Geralt drew his sword, the metal glinting brightly. “I suggest you ladies go bother someone else.” 

The pack leader laughed. “You think you can take all of us? What, is your bard going to sing us to death?” Her malicious grin widened as the other women laughed, too. 

Jaskier watched as Geralt drew in a slow breath, then let it out. He had advanced upon the women before any of them knew what was happening. The pack leader let out a shocked yell as Geralt stepped in close and knocked the crossbow out of her hands, the arrow loaded into it shooting into a nearby bush as it hit the ground. He stabbed at her in one quick motion. 

The crossbow’s owner staggered back, clutching her stomach as blood spilled out from between her fingers. Geralt didn’t even pause as he pivoted towards the next woman, his sword flashing through the air. She went down even faster. The other two women came at Geralt, trying to flank him. 

Geralt fended off the first sword that came at him, metal clashing as he swept it to the side. The woman on the other side of him got a hit with her dagger before Geralt turned the sword around in his hand and stabbed back at her, driving the point of his sword through her chest. The last woman was backing away, but Geralt swiped at her legs and she fell to the ground with a thump and a shriek of pain. 

Geralt wiped his sword off on one of the women’s coats and put it back in its sheath, then headed back to Jaskier. His arm was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to care. “Is it bad?” he asked as he knelt down next to Jaskier. 

Jaskier took his shaking hand off his leg. “How the fuck should I know? I’ve never been shot.” 

Geralt looked up at Jaskier. “Just breathe, Jas. I’m going to have to take the arrow out.” 

“What? No. No way. Just take me back to that healer, Lilian, or whatever her name was.” 

“She’s hours away. If I try to get you to her, the arrow could cause more damage as you move around.” While Geralt talked, he pulled a dagger out from his boot. “Now listen to me. I’m going to make the wound a little bigger so that I can pull the arrow out.” 

“Shouldn’t you _not_ make my wound worse?” 

“If I don’t do this, the arrow head could do a whole bunch worse when I remove it.” 

Jaskier stared at Geralt, angry with him for being so calm. Geralt stared back for a moment. Then he got up, rooted around in one of Roach’s packs, and came back with a small flask. He offered it to Jaskier. Jaskier took it and drank most of its contents without thinking. The alcohol burned his throat, and he coughed violently, spitting some of it back up. 

“That’s fucking foul, Geralt,” Jaskier said when he could speak. 

The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched up briefly. Then he took the flask back from Jaskier. “You might want to lay down.” 

Jaskier did as he was told, lying on his side. Geralt hovered in his periphery, examining the arrow wound. Eventually, Geralt put the dagger up to Jaskier’s leg. 

“Ready?” Geralt asked. 

“No,” Jaskier replied. 

Geralt cut into Jaskier’s leg. He hissed as the pain flared up, but he knew it would’ve been much worse if he hadn’t just chugged whatever Geralt had given him. 

“You’re doing good,” Geralt said gently, so gently that Jaskier was sure that the alcohol had suddenly hit his system. “Just keep breathing.” 

Jaskier felt Geralt’s fingers on him, warm and strong as they held his leg in place. 

“On three. One, two,...” Geralt grabbed the arrow and pulled. 

Jaskier tried not to choke on his own bile as he felt the arrow sliding slowly out of his leg. Once it was out, Geralt threw it to the side. 

“This is going to hurt the worst,” Geralt said as he picked up the flask Jaskier had drank from and poured the rest of the alcohol over Jaskier’s wound. Jaskier bit down on a scream, his fingers scrambling in the dirt as they tried to find something to hold onto. Geralt took off his coat and ripped a big strip of it off. He lifted Jaskier’s leg up and wrapped the cloth around it, then tied it off tightly. Jaskier, who had been holding his breath, let it out and went limp. 

Geralt carefully turned Jaskier onto his back. “You did it. We’re done.” 

Jaskier felt his heart clench at the sight of Geralt above him, hair falling over his face, relief written across his sharp features. Jaskier wanted to reach up and and run his thumb across Geralt’s jaw. 

The alcohol. It was the alcohol making Jaskier feel this way. And the blood loss. 

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked. 

Jaskier managed something that sounded like, “Hurgh.” 

A concerned expression flashed across Geralt’s face. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

Jaskier managed a small nod. Geralt slipped one arm under Jaskier’s back and the other under his legs. Jaskier let out a pained noise as he was picked up. Geralt lifted him up onto Roach, and Jaskier did his best to sit upright, clutching at the pommel of the saddle. Geralt paused long enough to grab Jaskier’s lute, then climbed up onto the horse as well. 

Jaskier did his best not to sink back into Geralt as he reached his arms around Jaskier to grab the reins, setting Roach off at a canter. Geralt was warm and Jaskier could feel himself growing cold, the pain in his leg ebbing away when it should’ve still hurt like hell. He felt himself leaning over to the side until Geralt wrapped an arm around him to hold him in place. 

“Talk to me, Jaskier,” Geralt said, the rumble of his words reverberating through Jaskier’s back. 

Jaskier inhaled sharply and shook his head to try to clear it. The pain in his leg came back into sharp contrast. “I’m fine,” he replied through clenched teeth. 

Geralt hummed as if he didn’t believe him. “Tell me the words to the chastity belt song.” 

Jaskier paused, trying not to focus on Geralt’s breath on his cheek. “Seriously?” 

“It’s not that I _want_ to know it, I just want to keep you awake.” 

Despite himself, a little laugh escaped Jaskier’s lips. “If you say so.” 

Geralt didn’t grace him with a reply, so Jaskier started reciting the words to the song. He could feel Geralt silently chuckle every now and again, probably properly unimpressed with the lyrics. When Jaskier finished, they settled into silence for a moment. Jaskier tried his best not to clutch at his leg even though it still felt like it was on fire. 

“This is my fault,” Geralt finally said. 

Jaskier jerked a bit, coming back to reality. “What?” 

“I should have heard the bandits, but I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Jaskier twisted around a bit to look at Geralt, who was staring straight ahead, not meeting Jaskier’s eye. “Geralt--” 

“Don’t make excuses for me. Please.” 

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand tightly. Geralt inhaled and finally looked at Jaskier, frowning. Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and turned back away from Geralt. 

“What happens when someone finds those women?” Jaskier asked instead. 

Geralt tensed. “They’ll probably be buried with other criminals.” 

“Oh.” 

“They would’ve killed us if they could have. I’m sure we weren’t the first people they’d robbed.” 

Jaskier slowly nodded. Exhaustion suddenly hit him, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He felt colder than before. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning back into Geralt, trying to keep from shivering. He could hear Geralt talking to him, trying to keep him awake, but everything sounded like it was underwater. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and slept. 

*****

When Jaskier woke up, he was in an unfamiliar room. He was lying on a bed underneath two layers of blankets. On one wall, a fire was going in a fireplace, casting a dim orange glow against the wooden walls and floor. A window was set into the wall opposite the bed, a large figure blocking out most of the view.

Jaskier started to struggle to sit up, and that’s when the figure moved, coming to Jaskier’s side. Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s arm, helping him to sit up against the bed’s headboard. Before Jaskier could say anything, Geralt was shoving a waterskin into his hands. Jaskier took a long drink of the water while Geralt sat down on the bed next to his legs. Jaskier’s head felt like it’d been stuffed full of wool. 

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked, his expression unreadable in the dim light. 

Jaskier set the waterskin down on his lap. He lifted the blankets off his wounded leg, noticing that someone had changed him into a fresh set of clothes. He laid a hand against his covered leg where he’d been shot, but he could barely feel any pain. 

“Fine,” Jaskier finally replied. 

Geralt nodded shortly, looking at Jaskier’s leg. “You’ve been in and out for a week. We can probably take the stitches out now.” 

“Stitches?” 

Geralt looked back at Jaskier. “When we first got here, I found someone to stitch you up. Remember?” 

Jaskier took a long breath. “Not at all. But on the plus side, at least I’m well-rested.” 

Geralt grunted in response. A second later, he said, “Take your pants off.” 

Jaskier paused for a second, staring at Geralt. “Excuse me?” 

“I said, take your pants off.” 

“Buy a guy a drink first, Geralt.” 

Geralt shot Jaskier a glare. “I’m going to take your stitches out, idiot.” 

Jaskier huffed out a laugh at the look on Geralt’s face. “Sure, whatever you say.” He pushed his pants down off his hips, but before he could get them past his knees Geralt took over and stripped him of the pants. 

Jaskier bit down on a choked sound, trying not to think about how efficient Geralt was at that. He pulled the blankets as much over his lap as he could as Geralt put the pants on the floor. It took Jaskier a moment to remember what they were supposed to be doing as Geralt turned back to look at his leg. Sure enough, his wound had been stitched up. It looked like it was healing over quite nicely, though it would likely leave a scar. 

Geralt pulled a bag out from under the bed and rooted around in it before coming back up with some small scissors. He immediately set to cutting the stitches slowly and methodically. Jaskier tried and failed to ignore the feeling of Geralt’s breath on his thigh and the way his fingers worked so deftly. He ended up staring at the ceiling, reciting the most religious song he could think of in his head. 

“Done,” Geralt said after what felt like an excruciatingly long time. 

Jaskier took his eyes off the ceiling to look at his leg. He ran his thumb along the red line there, wincing slightly. Geralt had stood back up, packing the scissors back into his bag. 

“I’ll get a bath ready for you,” he said, kicking the bag under the bed. 

Jaskier watched Geralt disappear through a door, getting a glimpse of a hallway outside. Geralt must’ve found an inn that would take them in. Jaskier swung his legs off the side of the bed and, with some difficulty, stood up. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself before walking over to the window. 

It was dark outside, the few lamps lining the streets burning brightly. Jaskier could make out people moving about two stories down below. They were probably rushing home for dinner, having finished up the day’s work. 

Jaskier sat down on the edge of the windowsill. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty hungry himself. He didn’t even know the last time he’d eaten. It was a little disconcerting to have lost so much time, to not remember what had happened the past week. 

Had Geralt stayed with him the whole time? It seemed so. Jaskier felt uncomfortable at slowing the witcher down like he had. He knew he was a liability, but it was finally hitting him just how much. 

And yet Geralt still protected him. The way Geralt had reacted when Jaskier had been hurt… Was it too much to hope that Geralt genuinely cared for him? Or was it just Geralt’s honor that made him act that way? 

Jaskier had to admit that, at the very least, _he_ cared for Geralt. Too much, probably, if the pang of jealousy he felt at any mention of Geralt’s lovers was any indication. It was stupid really, to get attached to a man who wasn’t supposed to have feelings, whether that rumor was true or not. 

The door to the room opened and Jaskier jumped a little. Geralt held the door open as two men came in with buckets. They slipped through a doorway Jaskier hadn’t noticed, and soon after came the sound of pouring water. After bringing in and pouring out a few more buckets, the men slipped out of the room for the last time. Geralt shut the door behind them. 

Geralt looked over at Jaskier, then motioned to what was probably the bathroom. Jaskier went over and peeked through the doorway. A wooden tub sat to one side of the room, the water in it throwing steam up into the air. Jaskier let go of his blanket and shrugged out of the rest of his clothes. When he glanced over his shoulder, Geralt was gone. 

Jaskier climbed into the tub, letting out a long sigh as he sunk down into the hot water. He closed his eyes, feeling his muscles relax. It’d been a long time since he’d had a nice bath. Too long, after so many days on the road. 

Jaskier’s stomach clenched. He sat up a little straighter. His hunger must have been getting the better of him, but he wasn’t about to leave the water right after he’d gotten into it. Except now what he’d thought was hunger was turning into pain. It burned its way slowly up through his chest and into his throat, where it stayed. Jaskier tried to take a breath, but it felt like something was lodged in his throat, growing bigger by the second. His whole body was in excruciating pain, and he had to fight not to curl up into himself. 

Panicking, Jaskier grabbed onto the edge of the tub to haul himself up. He only got about halfway before he leaned over the side and started to retch. Nothing was coming out, though, and Jaskier found his fingers scratching at his throat where he could feel something stuck there. As he retched again, Geralt came rushing into the room. 

Geralt fell to his knees by the tub, confusion and alarm on his face. Jaskier grabbed his throat, trying and failing to breathe. Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s face with one hand, tilting it up. Without warning, he forced Jaskier’s mouth wide open and reached in with his other hand. Jaskier couldn’t do anything as Geralt stuck his fingers down his throat. He felt something sliding up his throat as Geralt pulled his fingers out of his mouth. 

Jaskier coughed violently as Geralt yanked whatever had been blocking his airway out, then let his face go. Tears fell down his cheeks, a mixture of relief and fright. He heard Geralt curse, and lifted his head. In Geralt’s hand was a clump of something yellow and green. It took a moment for Jaskier to really focus on it. 

Dandelions. 

Jaskier stared at the flowers for a long moment, not able to process the fact that they’d just come from his body. He slumped back down into the tub, water rolling up onto the wooden sides. Geralt let the flowers fall from his hand onto the floor. They were both silent for a long time. 

Geralt cleared his throat. “Jaskier--” 

Jaskier was shaking his head. He didn’t want to have this talk right now. Geralt stared darkly at him before letting out a sigh. He moved close to the tub, reaching in and taking a handful of water that he poured over Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier sat there, letting Geralt put soap in his hair. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore his aching throat and the fading pain in his body as Geralt’s fingers massaged his scalp. 

“Who is it?” Geralt asked as he washed the soap out methodically. 

Jaskier opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. This is what he didn’t want to think about. If he was throwing up flowers like the people in the one town they’d passed through, that meant he was in love. 

And the only person he could be in love with was Geralt. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaskier replied, his voice hoarse. He clenched and unclenched his fists in the water. 

Geralt’s fingers stilled momentarily. “Yes, it does. We have to find her-- or him, or whoever-- so you can admit your feelings. That’s the only way we know how to stop this sickness.” 

Jaskier kept quiet. He couldn’t think of a convincing lie to get Geralt to back down. There was no way Jaskier was about to blurt out that the person he had feelings for was currently bathing him. 

Geralt let out a soft growl. “You’d rather puke up flowers until you die?” 

“I just…” Jaskier took a breath, blessed air filling his lungs. “I just need to think, okay? I only just got shot in the leg, and now this. It’s a lot to take in.” 

“Fine,” Geralt responded, though he sounded like it was far from fine. He stood up, offering a towel to Jaskier. 

Jaskier took it, then paused as he looked up at Geralt. “You can leave now. I think I can manage getting out of the tub.” 

Geralt’s mouth twisted a bit, but he turned and left the room. Jaskier sat in the tub a minute longer, his chest constricting painfully, except it wasn’t from the sickness this time. He could never tell Geralt that he had feelings for the man, not in a hundred years. Geralt wouldn’t return the feelings, he knew; Jaskier had heard of the women Geralt had been with-- only women. 

Jaskier finally pulled himself together and got out of the tub. He took his time drying off. When he walked back into the main room, Geralt was back at the window and there was a pile of clean clothes on the bed. Jaskier pulled the clothes on, then climbed into bed. He felt Geralt’s eyes on him as he settled in under the covers. 

As Jaskier started to drift off, he felt Geralt’s presence near him. Quietly, barely discernible, he heard Geralt say, “Why won’t you tell me who it is?” 

*****

As the first rays of morning streamed into the room, Jaskier leaned over the side of the bed and puked up more dandelions. This time they came out easily, without need of Geralt pulling them from his throat. Jaskier spit up the small petals that were stuck to his tongue. His whole body burned, ached.

Geralt was by his side in a second. Jaskier wasn’t even sure that the man had slept. He certainly didn’t remember Geralt climbing into the one bed in the room with him. 

Jaskier accepted the waterskin that was handed to him and drank deeply. Then he threw some of the water back up. Geralt didn’t even flinch as his boots got wet. He just helped Jaskier up into a sitting position. 

Jaskier finally got a good look at Geralt. His face was paler than usual, dark circles underneath his eyes. Jaskier felt a pang of guilt. Geralt was in this state because of him. But Geralt made no complaint as he cleaned the flowers and water up with a cloth. 

As Geralt came back by the bed, Jaskier grabbed his wrist. Geralt looked down at him with a worried face. 

“Sit,” Jaskier commanded, scooting over in the bed and patting the now-empty spot. 

“Jas…” 

“Sit, Geralt.” 

Reluctantly, Geralt sat down. 

“Hand me my lute?” Jaskier asked, nodding in the instrument’s direction, where it had been propped up by the bed. 

Geralt leaned over and picked it up, then gave it to Jaskier. Jaskier tuned it, aware of Geralt’s gaze the entire time. Jaskier sat back and started to strum quietly, his fingers a little clumsy after a week of not playing. 

“You should sleep,” Jaskier said, keeping his eyes on the lute. 

Geralt grunted. 

Jaskier stopped playing and looked at him. “You look shittier than me, you know.” 

An amused look was all he got from Geralt. 

“I’m serious, you need to rest.” 

“What if--” 

“Don’t worry about me,” Jaskier interrupted. “If I start to die again, I’ll kick you awake.” 

Geralt’s stare was disapproving. But Jaskier just started to play his lute again, finally finding the tune he wanted. Geralt let out a long sigh, then sank down further onto the bed. When Jaskier glanced over, his eyes were closed. Jaskier softly started to sing, a lullaby that he’d once overheard a mother singing to her baby. 

“ _Down in the valley, valley so low_ , 

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_ , 

_Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow_ , 

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_.” 

When Jaskier looked over at Geralt again, the man’s breathing had evened out. Jaskier continued to sing until he was sure Geralt was asleep. Then, as quietly as possible, Jaskier put the lute up and went to the room’s only table. On top of it was some bread and cheese, as well as a couple apples. He sat down and ate his fill, feeling a bit better with food in him. 

When he was done eating, he leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t help his gaze falling on Geralt, watching the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest. Eventually, Jaskier tore his eyes off Geralt and grabbed a book sitting on the edge of the table. He forced himself to read even though none of the words meant anything to him. It felt like he just kept reading the same paragraph over and over for a couple hours. 

Jaskier noticed that the burning sensation had started to spread through his body again. With shaky hands, he pushed away from the table. He’d only made it a couple steps away from the chair when he doubled over and vomited. Blood dripped onto the floor with the clump of dandelions, staining the petals red. 

Jaskier lifted his head, but Geralt was still asleep. He wiped his mouth, the back of his hand now smeared with blood. He grabbed the flowers on the floor and stood up unsteadily. Jaskier stared at the dandelions for a moment, then turned to the window. He opened it and chucked the flowers out, watching them fall onto the dirt below. No one down on the ground even noticed. 

Jaskier shut the window and grabbed the cloth Geralt had used to clean up the mess Jaskier had made this morning. He knelt down and wiped the blood off the floor, then threw the cloth into the fireplace. He watched it burn until there was nothing left but scraps. What Geralt didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Feeling lightheaded, Jaskier went into the bathroom and washed the blood off his face and hands. He stood over the bowl of water when he was done, looking down at his distorted image. He remember what the innkeeper had said about people throwing up their insides when the sickness got bad enough. How long until it happened to him? 

But it didn’t have to happen, not if he would just tell Geralt the truth. Jaskier wiped at his mouth once more. He took a shaky breath and went back out of the bathroom. A jolt of panic hit him when he saw Geralt sitting up in bed, sniffing the air. Jaskier inhaled, trying to smell any of the blood he’d cleaned up, but couldn’t. 

Geralt, however, probably could. Jaskier stood frozen in place as Geralt’s attention turned to him. He slowly got up from the bed and approached Jaskier. 

“What happened?” Geralt asked, even though he must have known. 

Jaskier shook his head. “Nothing. I--” 

“You said you’d wake me up if you got sick again.” 

“I think I said I’d wake you up if I was dying. And I’m not dying.” 

Geralt made an unamused noise, making Jaskier shut his mouth. “I smell blood on you.” 

Jaskier had to actively make himself stay in place as Geralt stepped in close. He took hold of Jaskier’s chin, his fingers gentle despite the frustrated look on his face. Geralt sniffed the air in front of Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier could barely think with Geralt’s face this close to his, only a couple inches between them. 

But then Geralt was letting go of Jaskier and stepping back. “It’s getting worse.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jaskier had to look at Geralt’s shoulder to be able to form a coherent thought. “It’s just a little blood.” 

“ _Your_ blood.” Geralt suddenly turned from Jaskier, his hands clenched into fists. “At least tell me where the person you’re in love with is, so I can take you there.” 

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he found words to speak. “I’m sorry for being a burden on you. I know the last thing you want is to be cooped up in this room, taking care of me.” 

Geralt turned back to Jaskier, hurt clear on his face. “No. The last thing I want is for you to be in pain. For you… for you to be dying. Why won’t you let me help you? Do you think I’ll hate you for who you love?” 

“I--” Jaskier choked back a distressed noise. Why hadn’t he realized how upset Geralt had been? “I don’t-- What if you do?” 

Geralt moved forward to grab Jaskier’s shoulders. “I won’t. I swear to you. All I want is to help you get better.” 

Jaskier looked up into Geralt’s eyes, never failing to be thrown off by their odd color. He swallowed back the words he was going to say. He needed time-- time to think of how to tell Geralt that he was in love with him. The last thing Jaskier wanted was to ruin their friendship, but if he didn’t, he was might actually die. 

It finally hit that Jaskier’s life was on the line here. All because of his stupid feelings and that stupid town. 

Jaskier turned his head to the side, feeling his throat constrict and the familiar burning pain start to creep through his body. His knees gave way, hitting the floor hard. When he threw up, there were a lot more flowers and a lot more blood than before. Geralt’s hand was on the back of his neck, grip tighter than necessary. 

Jaskier inhaled, swallowed hot blood, and coughed it back up. He let out a sob. It was too much. He just wanted it to stop. He had to make it stop. 

“It’s you,” Jaskier choked out. 

Geralt went still for a second. “What?” 

Jaskier screwed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at Geralt’s face when he said, “I’m in love with _you_ , Geralt.” 

There. He’d fucking said it. The sickness would stop now, right? And Geralt would probably hate him, but that was the way of things. 

Geralt let go of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier heard him get up and walk away. Jaskier bent over until his forehead rested on the floor, uncaring of the blood and flowers. He was still in pain, but it was nothing compared to waiting for Geralt to break his heart. 

Gentle hands pulled Jaskier back up into a sitting position. Jaskier opened his eyes as Geralt pressed a damp cloth to his face, wiping away the blood and spit and petals. He didn’t say a word as he cleaned Jaskier up, his face an unreadable mask. He looked exhausted, though. 

As Geralt cleaned off the last of the blood, he said, “Jaskier, look at me.” 

Jaskier reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the ground to look at Geralt. Geralt opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then shut it. He pulled Jaskier to his chest, hugging him tight. Jaskier went stiff for a moment, then slowly relaxed into Geralt’s hold. He inhaled, Geralt’s scent musky and warm. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s shoulder. “I never meant to make things so complicated.” 

Geralt was silent, unmoving. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “I’ve never… I’m not supposed to have emotions, but you don’t know the terror I felt when you were shot and I could do nothing about it. And then you got sick, and I couldn’t do anything about that either.” 

Geralt pulled back from Jaskier, searching his face for something. “I don’t know what love feels like, but if it’s anything like what I’ve felt this past week, it hurts. All I want is for you to be safe. To be healthy. I will do everything in my power to protect you from now on.” 

Jaskier let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Geralt, are you-- Are you trying to say you’re in love with me?” 

“I think so, yes.” 

“Oh,” Jaskier said quietly. He’d never seen Geralt so vulnerable, looking like he was waiting for rejection even though he knew Jaskier felt the same way. 

Jaskier leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Geralt’s lips. Geralt caught him by the neck and pulled him back in before he could break the kiss. Jaskier shivered at the slow intensity of Geralt’s mouth on his, his tongue flicking across Jaskier’s lips. The pain in his body dissipated, and all he could feel was every small movement Geralt made. He wanted to get close, so close that he wouldn’t be able to tell their bodies apart. 

Geralt pulled back all of a sudden, and Jaskier grabbed the front of his shirt, confused. 

“You taste weird,” Geralt said, ever the romantic. 

“Well, I did just vomit, so there’s that.” 

Geralt smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I smell worse on most days, so I guess I can handle it.” 

“You really do smell like horse a lot.” Jaskier grinned at him. “Maybe I’ll write a song about it.” 

“Like hell you will,” Geralt growled before kissing him again. 

Jaskier didn’t throw up any more flowers after that, but he certainly did write some nice songs about Geralt’s prowess in bed, if only to see the witcher turn red when Jaskier sang to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kpkl10)   
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/unfolded_pages_/)
> 
> Songs referenced:  
> [Charlotte the Harlot](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/001830.HTM&sa=D&ust=1580585844182000&usg=AFQjCNHNQAaDO1hRhJakBjfrep-xnuKU8A)
> 
> [Down in the Valley](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.lullaby-link.com/down-in-the-valley.html&sa=D&ust=1580585844181000&usg=AFQjCNEpuX-hCuXcOpEeBRCGGaU_h3FRlA)


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